Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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zs? ... . i-. ' ' ill... BBS .,1 I BBS I H8 I, , ? J I ?? i 1 I M BB~g=Sgg=gB^?? IMBW , i i J1 B we - BBMMp ' . - rnp'-T'mr?iffl?iifT^ lewis sr. sRisT. Proprietor. | An Independent Journal: For the Promotion of the Political, Social, Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the South. j ?2 pee ajthith nr advahcb. VOL. 6. ~~ ~ YOEKVILLE, S. O., THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER i860. NU. 39. Original Jffetrg. For the YorkvUTe Enquirer. THE MOTHER'S SORROW. BT FINLKT JOHNSON. A mournful scund is breaking Upon the summer air; We bear the sobs of sorrow, The fervent voice of prayer; We see the friends all gather Around the little bed, Upon which lies reposing The still and silent dead ; His little hands are folded A AM*.*.** KIo nnluftloao Krooct aviuso uio puiovivoj And in his Savior's bosom He has eternal rest. His mother stands beside him And calls upon the dead; And parts the sunny ringlets That cluster round his head ; Her eyes are wandering strangely, Her looks are painful?wild; As she falls upon the body Of her only darling child; And words of consolation Are to her worse than vain, For she knows her precious treasure Cannot return again. The coffin lid is closing? Oh ! listen to that shriek, It fills the soul with sorrow And pales the pallid cheek; Her trembling hands she claspeth tt i . Kjy\ju uct uninu^ o i-???/.? ? Her tender form is tottering? God help that mother now! For earth has no ties purer, Than the love a mother feels; Nor such anguish as a mother's, As beside her dead she kneels. Baltimohb, Md., 1860. f it Original jlton. Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. ST. PIERRE, THE MOUNTEBANK; OR, THE PREDICTION. A Eomanee of the Empire, under Catharine, II. T>V T> p HCGPTT CHAPTER V. CONSCIENCE. "List to this conjunction, make this match ; For by this knot thou shalt so surely tie Thy now nnsured assurance to the crown." In one of the upper chambers of the Palace de Rosenborg was seated Alexander and Count Waukoff, one of his most intimate friends, whom we have not before introduced to the reader. Both were anxiously awaiting the appearance of some one, as was evident from the many anxious glances which ever and anon they cast toward the door. The count was a noble specimen of a Russian soldier. Tall, stout and well formed, his martial person was well set off by the uniform of a colonel of the imperial guard which he wore; and which looked ? ? Um Ivxtn/v ^ ArtArn tori mif K n Liuut; me wuiac uy uctu^; ucwmitu nu.i u cross, the emblem of some order, and which had beeo given him by Catharine herself some three years before. His dark hair and beard, both of which he wore of an unusual length, gave a more savage appearance to a face which was marked here and there with scars received in many a fierce conflict while fighting the battles of his imperial mistress. And yet his voice when he addressed his companion was soft and low as a woman's; and when he gazed upon him it was with a loving expression, which few would think those iron features capable of assuming. Alexander it would be needless for us to describe. He was very young, not more than eighteen, if so old; and his features ever wore an expression of undecision and doubt, such indeed as is frequently seen on the faces of the young? the old never. At length the latter, as though tired of waiting, rose from his chair, and stretching out his arms, yawned several times, as men are apt to do when weary oi sitting; and glancing at the clock, remarked to his companion? 'I am afraid, Waukoff, that he will not come after all. What do you think about it?' '0 I he will be here yet, I think,' was the reply. 'By the way, my lord,' he added, ?if he is as wise as you believe he is, may he not know that I am here, and refuse to come until I have gone?' 'It may be so,' answered the duke thoughtfully. 'It is very strange that we nevei thought of it before !' 'Nay, it was in my mind all along,' replied the count. 'To tell you the truth,' he added. 'I am almost afraid to have you meet him alone. If harm should come to you, and I absent, it would be the death ol me.' 'Fear not for me, my faithful friend,' said the young man, patting him gently on the back as a boy would a huge dog. 'I am afraid of nothing simee you taught me how to wield a sword and fire a gun. As to the pistol?Lord ! I can hit a hair nine times i. -f ? out Ul l-eu. 'You have practiced some lately then ? said the other inquiringly. 'Oh yes, every day. But Waukoff, yot had better leave me for a short time, so thai this mountebank may have no further caus< for delay.' 'Anything to oblige you, my lord, sait the Count, rising. 'Should he come anc offer to harm you in any way, discharg* this pistol. I shall not be far off.' 'Thanks !' said Alexander ; and he seatec himself. But scarcely had the other iefi the room, when a long lank face peerec cautiously through the window, and on see ing that the Duke was alone, immediatel) disappeared. In a few moments footstep; were heard approaching the room; anc Alexander had scarce time to compose him self, when the door opened, and Saint Pier re entered. 'S'death, sir!' exclaimed the Duke, ot seeing him, 'but you have kept me waiting at least two hours after the appointed time. And pointing to a chair, he moved the ligh toward the centre of the table, and bade the mountebank be seated. 'It was through no fault of mine, my lord,' was the reply. 'My time,' he added, 'is so taken up with the numerous visits I have to give and receive, that I really do not know one hour, where I shall be the next.' 'And your son, Henri, have you brought him with you ?' 'He will be here to-morrow.' 'Why not to night?' 'You would not have him come in his present attire, would you?' inquired the other. 'Besides, as his father, I have much to say to him ere we part, and ODe day is not too much to ask, since after that he will be with you always ' 'So you have concluded to accept tny offer, then V said the Duke, a smile of pleasure crossing his face. 'I have, my lord,' replied the mountebank. 'In him you will gain a real treasure, though I say it who should not. He is deeply learned, my lord?can speak several languages, is a fine musician, understands the use of all weapons, and is courageous and trustworthy. But remember, my lord Duke,' he added, 'no menial office for the mountebank's son?no degrading task for Henri Saint Pierre! He must serve high or not at all.' 'I will treat him as a brother,' said the Duke ; 'and will use him kindly, so long as he deserves it.' 'I can ask no more, my lord. Pardon me, but the light effects my eyes;' and he removed the lamp further back, so that ,the light fell directly upon the Duke's "face.? I A nnornnf In trAO fnlro rrmn f lnfaroof in Kl fll ' 'iippaicutijr jivu tuag IUIVIVSU ?" he added. 'I do; and the reason is singular. He reminds nie of some one whom I have seen before, and yet, for the life of me, I cannot tell when or where. But this one, whoever it may have been, whether boy or girl, man or woman, must have been very dear to me; else why should I like this boy who so much resembles him or her?' , 'Is that resemblance in the face or in the 1 tone of the voice?' inquired the mountebank, gazing searchiDgly into his face as he asked the question. 'I dou't know, replied the Duke, thoughtfully. 'Perhaps in both.' The mountebank smiled. 'Perhaps I can refresh your memory,' he said, now seating himself for the first time. 'Indeed ! I wish you would.' 'Not that I was an actor in the scene 1 am about to narrate,' said the mountebank, wita that smile which persons in hisprofes < sion always assumes when attempting to de- J ceive any one; 'not that I repeat a thricetold tale when I tell you this, nor to gratify a selfish curiosity; but to make assurance doubly sure that I am really gifted id the way I speak. And for further proof, I will say, that ere this morning, I Dever saw you before in my life.' 'Is it really so ?'said the Duke. 'It is my lord. This person,' he continued again, fixing his cold eye piercingly upon the face of the listener. 'This person whom you say my Henri so much resembles, ' was a female, and you last saw her on your sixth birth-day ' 'Where ?' ?At Moscow.' 'Moscow!' repeated Alexander, slowly. iUl?5l5UW. A*J UC4VCU3 lie UAUiailUCU auu* denly, and leaping from his chair, as if the window of bis brain had been suddenly opened, and all thatseemed dark and vague before was now made clear to him. 'By heaveDS! that single word restores to my mind a host of recollections. Moscow ! I remember it all now, as if it happened but yesterday: How my father drove me thither in a sleigh without any of our attendants accompanying us, a circumstance so unusual that I remember it distinctly; how he carried me into an humble dwelling different from any I had ever entered before; how he cautioned me never to reveal to any one where I had been, lest it should reach the Empress' ear; how we met there a very pale and beautiful lady, who kissed and carressed me as though she were my mother; and how my father wept with me when the setting sun told us it was time to return.? Yes, yes ! I recollect it all now ! Strange ?very strange that it did not enter my mind before.' 'You were young then, my lord,' observed the mountebank. 'Ay, but as I said before, I recollect every thing distinctly. Oh, what power there often is in a single word ! Moscow.' It was the first time I ever visited that city, the reason perhaps why my mind recalls it , so vividly. But this lady who was she ?' i 'I dare not answer that question now,' : replied Saint Pierre. 'Do not be offended, my lord. Your own happiness depends I upon ray refusal. When Catharine is dead, i many things that are now dark will be i cleared up, not only to you but to the world r also.' i 'Nay, but I must know it,'said the duke j imperiously. 'Was she my father's mistress?' You ask that and your mother living!' ' cried Saint Pierre sternly. 'Shame ! shame ! No, my lord; whatever faults your father i may have committed, he has always been t true to bis partner the grand duchess.' 3 'Who could it have been?' said Alexander in a musing one, more to himself than 1 to the other. '0 !' he exclaimed at length, 1 -will you not tell me who she was? Pray ; speak and end my trouble at once.' The mouutebank covered his face with 1 his hands, and thought deeply for many t moments ere he replied. 1 'And if, my lord, I should reveal to you . what you so eagerly desire to learn, what .I t Ml r guarantee win you give oie mat you win 5 never allude to it to any one.' I 'My word as a nobleman,' replied Alex ander quickly. 'But will you swear to it ?' ?Ay, a thousand times, if you wish.' i 'Enough. I will trust you and bendr ing his head close to the duke's the mountebank whispered, 'she was your father's t sister.' 'My aunt!' exclaimed the duke, starting. I 'The Princess Maria!' 'Who,' continued the other, 'having fal-j len under the displeasure of the empress, was forced to flee from the palaoe, and take up her residence with Nicholas Loutan, an , humble merchant in Moscow. A few weeks ! after you last saw her, she returned to the palace; and refusing to answer several questions which the empress put to her, was thrust into a loathsome dungeon. The next morning when the jailor visited her, she was dead. 'My poor aunt!' said the duke, with ! more feeling than he had ever displayed before. ?But what was the cause of the empress' displeasure ?' 'Simply a report then current, that Maria was wedded to the Duke of Leipsic, the Prussian ambassador whom Catharine hated. Whether it was true or false, the princess suffered for it, and'? The mountebank suddenly paused, and drew his hand over his eyes, as if to shut out some horrible vision, and his frame trembled visibly. Forthrough the window, which stood half open, he saw crouched j down and seeming but a mass of rubbish, the form of one whom he had not seen for years?once so dear, but now hated with a burning hatred which time had not softened?and who had heard every word of a conversation in the subject of which?as the future will show?he had himself played a most active part?the form of Count ! Waukoff, Colonel of the Imperial Guard jand favorite of Catharine, Empress of Rusjsia. But the pause was but of a moment's duration?the cry of astonishment suppressed?the cold calm smile once more covered the corpse-like face ; aud the mountebank again resumed, repeating the last words. Whether the report was true or false, j the princess suffered for it; and three days i after her death, her reputed husband was [assassinated as he was entering his carriage, 'to return to his own country.' 'Was the murderer ever discovered ?' inquired the duke, growing more and more interested as the tale proceeded. 'He was not, but will be.' 'How do you know?' 'Because the Good Book tells us that | God's vengeance never cleepeth,' replied j the mountebank solemnly. 'Vengeance is mine. I will repay! sayeth the Lord.' 'Ay, and if I could but discover him, I would willingly be the minister of bis wrath !' said the duke, his eyes flashing like fire. 'Poor Maria !' he said feelingly. 'I remember her well now. But is it not ! strange,'he added, 'that I never learned; her fate before ?' 'Not at all, my lord. The matter was hushed up at the time, and the Count warned never to allude to it again. The Empress, however, has not forgotten it; and if the two were married, woe be to those who assisted at the ceremony, should she ever learn it.' 'And Henri?what a remarkable resemblance to?' 'Very,' interrupted the mountebank.? 'Now, ray lord, I had revealed to you some thing of the past, not so much perhaps as I intended, but enough to prove to you that I am no ordinary man. Now for the present and the future; would you know more of them, ask.' ?I will,' said the Duke; 'and should you answer my question truly, I shall then believe that you are really what you would make yourself to be, a prognosticator. "Who was with me just now ?' The mountebank shuddered as he replied, 'Count Waukoff.' 'What is my opinion of h'm ?' 'You believe him to be an honorable man and a devoted friend,' was the reply. 'True. Where is my father ?' <Tn this city.' I 'You are wrong,' said the Duke, with a smile of triumph. He is now in St. Petersburg, and ill with a fevor.' <f think not.' said Saint Pierre, coldlv. 'He left St. Petersburg on the fourth of last month ; arrived here this evening; set out to visit you about an hour since; was attacked on the corner of the street; and is now preparing to return. Do you doubt my word ? Send to the hotel San Carlo, and see ' i 'By heavens!' exclaimed Alexander, j starting from his seat and seiziqg the bell? ! 'By heavens ! if your words be true, I shall henceforth believe you in everything. To the hotel San Carlo,' he continued as one I of the servants entered the room, <and\jn! quire whether my father has arrived; if so, 'ask whether it would please him to have I me wait on him immediately.' 'The last order is needless,' said the ! mountebank. 'Whv ?' j 'Because he has just entered his carriage, I and is now en route for St. Petersburg. Go! to the hotel,' he added, to the astonished I servant, 'and inquire whether a Russian j gentleman attired in a general's uniform, jand his breast covered with orders, arrived 'there this evening. You need give no jname,' he continued, 'since he departed as 1 he came, incognito.' j The door again opened, and one of the 1 Duke's Italian attendants entered the room 'Your excellency,' he said, 'oie of the servants of the hotel San Carlos has just left this note, with directions that it should 1 be given to you personally. He is without, and?' 'Dismiss him !' said Alexander, throwing ja piece of gold upon the floor. 'Now both j of you leave the room This note?' 'It's from your father,' said the mountebank, catching a hasty glance at the super-! scription. Quickly tearing it open, the| vnnnf* man read a few words, and then sank : j o . , | half fainting into a chair, j 'Are you man or devil V he exclaimed lsuddenly; and gazing wildly into the face 'of the other, who answered the look with j his cold unmeaning smile. 'Yes, yes !' he | continued, as he perused the note from the J beginning to the end, 'it is word for word as you told me?nought different and all exact . In heaven's name, tell me at once who you are V 'A simple mountebank, my lord,' replied Saint Pierre, with a low bow; 'and o^e whom fortune has dealt hardly with.' ?I comprehend you,' said Alexander, his face scarcely less paler than the others ; and taking a bag of gold from a drawer, he moved it toward him. 'Is it enough ?' he asked. 'More than I expected,' answered the mountebank, rising. <. 'Nay, do not go so soon,' said the Dnke. 'You have not yet told me the futuro.' 'What more would you kDow than what I told you this morning? You would be Emperor of Russia, but without shedding a father's blood ; jet if there should be do other way, you would even do that. 'Tia easily done,' he continued, still scanning the Duke's face with his cold grey eye? 'a blow with a knife?ah, but then there is conscience!' And again his eyes wandered to the window. 'But you said this morning?' That there is another way. True. You would have me repeat it? 'Tis easily remembered ! Marry the ward of the first man who first enters your presence to-morrow morning j follow his advice in every thing, and you will suceed. He will find the means to depose your father, an heirapparent, and that too, ere the Empress' death. Fail to do so, and the crown oan be gained only by his death. 'Enough?and Henri V 'Is at the hotel de Dieu. He will be with you to-raoirow/ The duke bent his head, and remained for many moments in deep thought. When he again looked up the mountebank was gone. With an exclamation of surprise he rose to his feet; and at the same moment the window was flung open, and Count Wnukoff sprang into the room. But no longer erect and stiff walked the haughty count?no longer did his eyes flash fearfully around him?no longer did his face wear that swarthy complexion which distinguishes the Russian of the south?no longer did his face wear that savage frown. But pale as death itself, his eyes colorless and glassy, his head bent upon his breast, and his arms hanging listlessly by his side, he staggered rather than walked, to a chair, and sinking down, covered his face with his hands and groaned. 'In God's name !' cried Alexander, as soon as he had somewhat recovered from i his surprise at the count's sudden appearance, 'are you ill V 111! ill!' replied the count, slowly rising, and fixing his bloodshot eyes upon the young duke, while his form trembled with violent emotion. 'Oh, yes ! very ill!' and he gasped horribly as a white foam rose to his lips. 'I?I am here?0 God !' and he fell back almost insensible into the chair, murmuring faintly?'brandy ! brandy !' The duke sprang to the closet, and returned in an instant with a small flask of the desired article. Hastily knocking off the top, he filled a glass with the fiery liquid, and handed it to the count, who draiued it to the bottom. 'Doyou feel better?' he inquired, after a short silence, during which he had replaced the bottle on the table, and seated himself. 'Somewhat,' said the count, again ris ingand clinging to the table for support.? 'In rfcaven's name, my lord !' he exclaimed suddenly, 'who is this man that whispers such words in your ear, rakes up forgotten crimes, and preaches of God's vengeance? Is he manor devil, or is he what he really appears to be ? But no matter ! 'Tis useless to ask the question of you, since you know him not. Oh, I overheard every word that passed between you from your balcony ac d window?all?every thing! This man?this Saint Pierre, as he calls himself, has another name?I feel it in my heart?and that name?his true one?I must^nd will learn, and that too before the world is an hour older.' 'What means this agitation?' inquired the Duke, gating with surprise upon the flushed brow of the other, as he walked hastily to and fro aoross the room. 'What means this agitation, Waukoff?' It means this,' my lord,' answered the Count, stopping suddenly in his walk, and laying his trembling hand upon the Duke's shoulder. 'It means that this Jean Saint Pierre, as he calls himself?this mountebank?this fortune-teller?knows more of me than he should. It means that ere tomorrow's sun rises in the east?ere the tide flows and falls again?this man's true name shall be known to me, or he or I shall have ceased to live'' 'But, Waukoff?' 'No words?I mean?pray pardon me, if for a moment I forget my duty to yourgelf. Oh, my lord, I am nearly mad !' and he pressed his band heavily against his brow for a moment, while his bloodshot eyes seemed starting from their sockets with the violence of contending emotions. 'Ay, 'tis uearly over now. But see,' be added, as the clock struck, and starting; 'see, the night is waning fast, and what I have to do mustJjajk'ne quickly. I must seek him jpstantflWKe may leave the city. Farewell, my lord 1 I shall return soon.' And thrusting his pi9toland sword into his belt, the Count seized his hat, threw open the door, bowed hastily to the Duke, and rushed from the room. They never met again. [to be continued.] John C. Fremont.?It will appear from the following, in the San Francisco Herald, that Colonel Fremont is so ungrateful as not to care whether Lincoln is 'voted up or voted down 'Dispatches to yesterday's eveningpapers state that on the arrival of Col. J. C. Fremont at Los Angelos, fifteen guns were fired in his honor. A delegation from the Republican Club waited upon him, but he expressed his determination not to take an active part in the Presidential canvass.'? Original Japers, For the Yorkvllle Enquirer. YOU ASK MB WHYl AM SO CHANQ] BY J. W. TAN NAMEE. Vou aak me why I am so changed ! Why roses do not bloom Upon my cheeks as once they did? Why l am wrapt in gloom? Why no more I am found amid The scenes of joy and mirth, Why I no longer revel in The pleasures of this earth ; Why I seem cold and proud to all. And spurn the friendship true That has been offered at my shrine, Sweet child of song, by you ? I do not spurn your friendship, love, I prize it, believe me now, If I seem cold and heartless too, Gaze on my youthful brow. Do you not see the traces there, Of care and grief and woe? Oh ! friend the miseries I have felt, I pray, you ne'er may know. Iv'e trusted and I've been betrayed, I've gathered love's fair flowers, I've revelled 'mid the beauty of Sweet friendship's holy bowers. I've tasted of life's bitter woes, I'vo felt the piercing breath Of stern misfortune, and I seek Relief from care in death. Mv heart is broken, broken now. And joy is not for me, I cannot miDgle in the scenes Of noisy mirth and glee. I much prefer to be alono For solitude is sweet; Then blame me not, I love you friend, And hope in Heaven we'll meet. GEORGIA CORRESPONDENC3 Pine Forest, Ga , ] Sept 6th, 1860. J Dear Enquirer:?As I have prom: to tell your readers something about Altamaha river and its tributaries, and inexhaustible pine forests of this reg and the great facilities for turning the si into money, together with many ol sources of wealth and prosperity in Sot ern Georgia, I think it proper first to cur for a moment, to the days of our c nial history. The Italian navigators, J Cabot and his son Sebastian, botb in service ot Henry V1L. or England, sa portion of the North American contir in the year 1497, several months eai than it was seen by Columbus. The S| ish CaptaiD, Velasquez de Ayllon, vis the coast of South Carolina in the nei borhood of the Combahee river, whict discovered and named the Jordan; then carried off a number of the natives sold them for slaves at St. Domingo. J Verazzani, a Florentine captain in the of Francis I. was sent out in 1523, reached the coast somewhere in the 1 tude olWilmington N. C., where be fo a "full of beauty to the eye, the vtpftous perfumes which reached from the shores, intoxicated him witl thousand oriental fancies." Mexico Peru had been discovered and invadec the Spaniards; and Ferdinand DeSotc Spanish captaiu of great renown (who distinguished himself in Peru under lead of Pizarro) entered Florida io the ] 1539, and pushed his conquests westwi ly, encountering many difficulties, u finally he reached the Mississippi ri where he died and was buried beneath waves?having discovered, in the sig cant language of one of our own historii nothing "so remarkable as his burial plac The coast of Georgia, however, was discovered, probably, until about the t the persecution of the Huguenots in Fra took place The celebrated Hugue leader, Admiral Coligny, bethought 1 that the New World would be a place wh er the protestants might fly from the pe cutions which beset them at home. YV this object in view, he got permission fi Charles IX. to plant a colony on the c< of Florida; and entrusted the expeditioi John Ribault of Dieppe, an ei .erien aeon-ion nnd hrave soldier, who sailed ft France in February of 1562. His aim ' to reach the river Jordan, to a knowlei of which the French had been introdu by the discovery of Velasquez; but, sail too far south, he first made land in the 1 tude of St. Augustine, where he discove the river St. John's which he called May river. He then, still in search of Jordan, steered a northerly course, nam the different streams which he met v after well known rivers in France. St. Mary's for the time became the Sei the Satilla, theSomme; the Altamaba, Loire; the Ogecbee, the Garonne; and Savannah, the Gironde. About this t: arose one of those great tempests for wh this southern coast is so remarkable; a after being buffeted about by the winds i waves for some time, Ribault finally eD prJ fi hpnnf.ifiil Knv tnhinh ho thniiohf the mouth of the Jordan, and wherequote his own quaint language?(,we str our sails and cast anker at ten fathou water, for the depth is such when the begineth to flow, that the greatest ship! France, yea the arguzies of Venice, r enter in there." To this bay, "becausi the fairnesse and largenesse thereof," gave the name of Port Royal. Here the delighted Huguenots land and gave themselves up to the contem] tion of the strange and beautiful scene The mighty oaks, ''the infinite store of dars," droves of turkey cocks flying in air, patridges gray and red, and the voi of stags, bears, hyenas, leopards aad di\ other unknown wild beasts, all excited tl wonder and admiration. Being deligh with the place, they set themselves to fish with nets, and "caught such a numbe fish that it was wonderful." Here Ribi left twenty-six men, who formed the 1 white settlement in South Carolina, and turned to France to find his countrymen in arms against each other, in the hoi persecution whioh followed. After an seoce of two years, during which the fate b of the little colony was unknown in France, d a relief was at last sent out under command h of Rene Lnudonniere, a man of intelligence, e a seaman rather than a soldier, who had w 3D. . . f visited the American coast on a former u voyage. He reached the shores of New tl France in August, 1564, and proceeded to u the mouth of May river. Having heard the fate of the colony at Port Royal, he re- w solved to plant a settlement at the month M of May river, and erected Fort Caroline.? h The site chosen, though inferior to Port u Royal, had its attractions, also. Upon the li eminence where the fort was built, were b "cedars, palms and bay-trees, of so sovereign odor, that balm smelleth nothing in h comparison." The trees were enrivoned a with vines bearing grapes sufficient to make li the place habitable. Landonniere had i: some trouble in camp; butRibault was sent a out to supercede him in the command.? o Soon after his arrival, however, Ribault was t again caught in a storm, and driven down t the coast of Florida; and his whole fleet b were dashed to pieces against the rocks full b fifty leagues south of fort Caroline. Mean- s while Melenuez of Spain, who had followed n him from Europe, arrived in time to rour- t der the whole garrison at fort Caroline.? r Ribault himself, and nearly all his companions who survived the wreck, fell into his hands and were put to death in cold blood. This outrage was avenged by that brave Frenchman, the chevalier Dominique de Gourgues, who fitted out a small fleet at his own expense, and, after getting out to sea under other pretences, sailed directly for Florida and put every Spaniard to the sword, or to the same trees where the unfortunate Ribault and his companions had met their fate. But all this, and much more, is to be found in the History of South Carolina by Mr. Simms; and I hope all the young folks y will procure the book and read for themselves. So much by way of introducing my ls? readers to "The Altamaha and its Tributae ries." More anon, from .the A FORESTER, ion, lUie Written for the Yorkvllle Enquirer. -her MY COUSIN. 3th- BY RUBY. , re. Oh! there she sat on an oitoman, While the smoke from my raerschaum rose, And over her dress it stealthily ran, ohn Till it slyly crept in her nose. the , , ,, ... I saw her marble white brows contract, TV Q ... ... " Ana the water stood in her eyes, leDt And I saw her dear nose?'tis a fact, i Her To a forty-five augle rise. ( 5aa' And I saw her ruhytlps teeth disclose, 1 ited Like pearls from the orient seas, igh- While a sound, a half stifled congb arose, And it seemed very much like a sneeze, t ho ( and Now I'll tell you what she thereupon did, ] aQ(j Yes, this beautiful young female, With brown eyes 'neath the dark lashes hid, ?hn And brow like the lily leaves pale. { ser- < i Each eye flashed fire from under its lid, , 11 . As with force that nothing could hinder, lati- She took that mersrhaum pipe, yes, she did, ( und -And threw it far out of the winder. t and Yes, to use the words of a distinguished t him writer, 'that pipe was no whar;'and think- ( h a ing over the occurrence now, when years t nod have passed away and time has softened I by the hard feelings then occasioned, I be- a >, a lieve she acted rightly; for, to say the least t had of it, it was rather indecorous to be smo- t the king my pipe in the parlor and filling the [ pear curtains with an enduring reminiscence of ard- the performance, not to mention that it was r ntil done in the presence of a female, and that c per, female my very delicate and refined cou- 1 i its sin; and that it caused a sternutatory per- j nifi- formance on the part of that cousin. You ins, really should have seen my cousin as she :e." sat there, half-recliuing on that low velvet a not covered ottoman by an open window, half ( ime hidden in the folds of the drooping cur- y nee tains, whose lace and rose-colored silk made mot a beautiful drapery for the picture. The : bim breeze, laden with rich perfumes from the ith vines through which it passed, played a- * rse- mong the rich tresses of her raven hair, and r rith lifted them from a low brow where it seem om ed as if wreaths of lilies might have left ^ >ast their whiteness. Like an enraptured ar- a 1 to tist's fervid representation of some beauticed ful Sultana, 'the Queen of the Harem,' or I' om 'the Light of the World,' or 'the Necklace was of Pearls;' or, as the fairy-like visions seen ^ dge in some inspired poet's beautiful dreams, ced was my lovely cousin, and by Jupiter, she A ing knew it. That was the old Nick of it, she ati- knew it. Great Moses, I worshipped her! 8 red I believe I reverenced even her dainty lit- ^ the tie impudent slipper. As for her glove, the St. Bartholomew's boly dermis was nothing c ing compared to that little piece of rat skin ! ^ rith Well, we grew up together and she re- 8 rhe ceived all my attentions in the most gra- a oe; cious manner, and listened with a ready the ear to all my griefs and joys, the story of g the which I was ever ready to relate to her; irue aod she made me her confidant in a small ? lich way; and seemed pleased to have me with t nd, her at all times, (I then thought so) and in ^ aod fact, to tell the truth, I believed that my ter- adoration was repaid by her love, and I was ( i T7.? 1 ,L. was a very nappy ycuug luuu. jluu &uuw iue -to old thiug, lwheo ignorance is bliss/ and so v oke on ! 11 i of Well, there was a nice young man with f sea black whiskera (I had no sign of a beard) 3 of who used to dance with my cousin some- ? nay times, and she seemed to like him very 3 of much, and so did I, for he was a fine, frank, he open-hearted fellow, full of life and always I trying to make everybody pleased with s: led, themselves and him, and generally succeed- f< pla- ing. My cousin and he became better and h .? better friends ; rode often together, walked b ce- further together, sat up later together. All c the this time, in the honesty of my heart, I sus- t ices pected nothing. At last the denouement a rers came. One sweet summer evening (so I C jeir then thought; now it seems like a stormy r ted winter night) my beautiful cousin asked n ing where I had been all the week. I told her p r of that I had been trying to adorn my own ink home, and beautify it for the reception of 1 Brst my bride. 'And who is the favored lady, p re- Rube, upon whom you have deigned to up throw yourself away ?' said my cousin.? b rrid 'For whom could I be preparing but for my 5 ab- soul's queen, the light of my heart, my own t eautiful cousin,' said he, whom she adressed as Rube I saw the color leave er eheeks, I saw her tremble, I saw her yes begin to twinkle through the tears rhich rapidly filled them, and?but never nnd; that is enough, suffice it to say, hose black whiskers were too much for le. 'Ob ! women,' as the same distinguished 'riter I have mentioned before, remarks, fvimmen are deceiven' critters.' I really ad no other thought than that she loved le, but she said I was mistaken, and I be ieve I was. I thought it was all right, ut it turned out to be all wrong. Well, well, I am not the first person who las, to use plain language, got the wrong \ntelope by tbe ear, and I will not be the ist either. There are more fools yet livng. Many other feet will be 'put in it' s deep as mine was. But the worst part f it, tbe Diabolus of the whole thing is, hat 1 haven't got another beautiful cousin. U1 that I can do is to try and get somelody else's cousin, (I know a fellow who las a very good one) who will be more usceptible to my charms than was my own, ay lost one, and who is not so easily enrapped by black whiskers, for mine aro? lot black. Cussinly yours, RUBY. Written for tho Yorkville Enquirer. HAPPY HOMES. The homes of a people are the landmarks >f civilization. They are a standard by vhich we can measure their moral and so:ial greatness. What is a nation bat a large amily, possessing rights and duties, iote ests and privileges ? The influence of each nember of the family for good or evil is re jiprocal. As the shock of electricity vi jrates and expands, so the influence of hunan actions is diffused from the centre to ;he circumference of human society. The noral power of a people is just in proporion to the combined virtuous influences vhich exist in the homes of the people.? Hence it may be truly said, that our homes ire the nurseries of the nation's greatoess. Home?cold the heart must be that does aot beat more quickly at the bare mention if that word. What delightful associations ind recollections are connected with that spot. A happy home gives the mind a foretaste of the immortal state. It is here 'hat the virtues, and eharitiea. the hleftsinra md realities of human life, are enjoyed.? Elere the sympathies of the heart, and the iffections of the mind are noarisbed and developed, and all that is great and good in nature, ia brought to maturity. - But what constitutes a happy home?? Religion is the chief and most important element of human happiness; without it all happioess is imperfect; many things are capable of yielding pleasure to the mind and gratification to the senses, but this is the ielixer of life,"?therefore, to be truly lappy, we must make our homes the temples )f religion. There are many other essen;ials to domestic happiness?duties which ve owe to God?our fellow creatures?and jurselves ; but it is almost needless to say hat religion comprehends all these. The pleasures of literature is also neceslary to make happy homes. Then let it be he ambition of all those who are solicitous o have happy homes, to possess a good lijrary and a collection of useful periodicals. * 1 he feast ot reason and the flow or soul, nay then be enjoyed when the toil of the lay is o'er, and as the father gathers around liar his family, he feels indeed, that though )oor, he has a paradise on earth. Finley Johnson. Baltimore, Md. SWcrtdf Jpisrelknji. Sacred Mountains ?Mount Ararat, he mount upon which the Ark of Noabested. Mnnnt Mnriflh the mnnnt. nnnn whieh ibrahaD) offered up his son Isaac; where fterward Solomon built the temple. Mount Sinai, the mount upon which the aws were given to Moses. Mount Hor, the mount upon which bron died. Mount Pisbgah, the mount upon which loses died. Mount Horeb, the mount where Moses aw the burning bush, and where Elijah led from the face of Jezebel. Mount Curmel, where fire came down and onsumed the sacrifice of Elijah, and where le slew the prophets of Baal; and from the ummit of which he prayed for rain and was nswered. Mount Lebanon, the mount noted for its ;reat and beautiful cedars. Mount Zion?the literal Mount Zion was mo nf tho hills nn urhioh .Toriianlom was milt, and stood Dear Mount Moriab, where Abraham offered up his son Isaac. Mount Tabor, the mount upon which Christ was transfigured. Mount Olivet, the mount where our Saiour prayed, being in an agony, and sayDg, "If it be possible, let this cup pass rom me," &c. Mount Calvary, the mount upon which ur Saviour was crucified. How to Prevent Sore Shoulders n Working Horses.?An exchange ays : "The plan we have tried and never jund to fail is to get a piece of leather and ave it cut into a shape so as to lie snugly etween the shoulders of the horse and the ollar. This fends off all the friction, as he collar slips and moves on the leather nd not on the shoulders of the horse.? Jhafing is caused by friction ; hence this emedy is quite a plausible one, and is auch better than tying slips of leather or tads of sheep skin under the collar." Dr. M. W. Phillips, in the Southern ?ural Gentleman, thus comments on the dan above given : Many persons in Charleston and Colum?ia, South Carolina, will remember J. J. Saaler, and we refer to him as having used he above as early as 1825 any how. We remember distinctly of seeing it and hearing that gentleman speak warmly in its favor, and we are certain notJater than 1825 or 1826, because we, to all intents, left those parts in May, 1827. Occasionally we see claimants as if for something new, when in all probability tbey have been osed in other sections of oar country fifty years ago. Don't claim for new, old things. Curious Restoration of Sight by Music:?The Presbyterian relates a remarkable story of a little boy, about thirteen r years of age living in Tennessee : One day daring the past winter, he failr* ed to riseas early as usual; f^t length bjs father went into the room where he lay, and asked him wby be did not get up. He said''*' it seemed dark yet, and be was watting fojr J-_ 1* I. 0:_ &.L J L.i .L. UiL uayn^uv. alio xznuer lewreu dug vuu uvj did not make bis appearance for some time. "My son, why don't yon get up?" He replied, "Father, is it daylight?"*"Yes, long ago " "Then, father," the little fellow said, "I am blind." And so it was. Hie sight was gone. His father took him to Nashville to get the benefit of the medical profession there, but none of the physicians could do anything for him, and happily made no experiments on his eyes. Some ladies in a family of his father's acquaintance sought to cheer him iu his affliction, and one night proposed to take him to the opera, that he might hrar the musio and .1 i. j ij.1- l.-j. but; siugiug. ne weub auu was ueuguteu. ? the course of the performance, >11 at once be leaped up, and threw his arms around his father's neck, and soreamed with ecstacy. <Oh, father 1 "I can see ! I can see!' His sight had instantly returned, and since then he has retained it in foil vigor, except that under excitement there is some times a transient dimness of visiotr. The case is one of remarkable oharocter.? ji? .. " Name Derivations.?Robert,.famous in council. Richard, liberal.--Julia, soft and tender hearted. David, beloved. Susannah, a lily. Walter, signifying to rule an army. Marah, bitter. Rachel, a sheep. William, from the Danish,-a. sbfieid.\ Lucifer, light bearing. Chloe,; from the Latin, a green herb. Doroaa,'a roebuck.,? TVinmoo mparts twiaa-P^crr.r daairp for rest. Gertrude, true to her trupt?*Mary, signifies a tear. Sarah, ttdfjflo* princess. Charles, stoat. Ellea, valor.*? George, a husbandman. Deborah', a bee. Don, brown-eyed. Henry, honor.VMagdalen, tears and penitence. Hannah, 'merciful, gracious. Ere, she lived. Esther, Edgar, Edwin, witnesses. Margaret, signifies a pearl. Alfred, all peace. Sophia, wisdom. Sopfironia, prudence, temperance. Nancy and Anna, gracious. Faucis, from the Tuetonic, free. Catharine, pure, bright. Rhoda, a rose. Ruth, satisfied, fullness. Isaao, laughter. Phijlis, a leaf. Philip, a lover of horses. Andrew, manly, courageous. Eugene, nobly born. Arrabella, a fair altar. Agnes, chaste.-? Adelard, from the Tuetonic, a generous spirit. Adeiia, from the Saxon, exceHebt. Asa, physician or core. Herbert, the glory of an army. - - jT Me. Howe's Sewing Machine PXtxk^.. ^ Extension.? As we have before stotpd^. the application of Mr. E. Howe, Jr,. for ah. . : ~c u: . . c .1 > tt&ieumuu ui uio paieutiur cue ueeuiw uacu io the best sewing machines, which w& for some time pending before the commissioner ? of Patents, was decided on Saturday last. The grounds on which the application, was made, as produced in the. arguthenV counsel, were, that the half million of dollars acquired by the inventor as profits, was not a sufficient remuneration for the actuhl advantage derived from tire use of fche^nvention ; that new brances of industry had been created by,its means, and that by its use products had been cheapened and improved, and hours of labor lessened, while wages had been increased! After having t beard the arguments, the Commissionenof Patents reserved his decision tthtil ^Saturday last, wheu he granted the application and extended the patent for seven years.? In making his decision the Commissioner expressed the opinion that the profits which had accrued to the inventor, were net snch . as the value of the invention entitled him " to.? Washington Star. Modesty and Dignity.?It should be the boast of every man that he had never nnt nmdestv to the blush, nor encouraeed im r " ~ ~ ^ * ' y* _ o > modesty to remove its mask. Bat we fear there is far too little ohivalry in the present day. If yoang men do not ohaok their partners under the chin, they are often guilty of pressing their hands when the dance affords an opportunity. There is a calm dignity with which to show that the offence has been noticed, but if a lady condescends to reprove it in words, she forces the culprit to defend himself, and often ends by making the breach worse. On the other hand, let a woman once overlook the slightest familiarity, and fail to show her surprise in her manner, and she can never be certain that it will not be repeated.? Habits of Good Society. B&* Here is a singular sentence: "Bator arepo tenet opera rotu.1. This spells backward and forward all the same. I 2. Then taking: all the first letters of each word spells the first word. ?** 3. Then all the second letters of eaoh word spells the second word. . . \ 4. Then all the third; and so on through the fonrth and fifth. 5. Then commencing with the last letter of each word spells the last word. 6. Then the next to the last of each word; and so on through. A L! 1 A.. SOT A man 01 puuosupaioai usuipcmiu^uw resembles a cuoumber; for although he may be completely cot up, he still remains cool. Throw a piece of meat among bears and a purse of gold among men, and which will behave most outrageously?the men or i the beasts.